The Twins Potter: Getting Lucky
by Emperor Sunny
Summary: After Harry and the DA's fall in fifth year, Harry's clever and inventive Ravenclaw twin, James, plots revenge. With a little luck and a night to remember before him, he just MIGHT pull it off, and sully Umbridge's career in the process. Violence/mild sex


This oneshot/mini-fic is based off of my Twin's Potter series, where Harry has an American-raised twin named James Dean. It was written many moons ago, back when I was still plotting the series and getting character analysis done for my work. It is very deep and varying in perspective, getting deep into the minds of the "Three Kings of Ravenclaw" as James Dean Potter, Travis Barker, and Brian Gates. How they see one another and the world as it unfolds around them, this story takes place right around the time period before Harry and the DA leave for the Department of Mysteries.

There are also "Spoilers" to the as-of-yet to be written Twins Potter series, but really, who cares?

Although it would be best that you did read at least the first story for knowledge, if you haven't read the Twins Potter and the Philosophers Stone, no big! There is mentions of the past, even if they're vague. This is a stand-alone story, for the most part, and an entertaining one at that(at least to write.)

It is broken into mini-chapters, each one following the same concept of the series. "Recommended Listening" is stated at the beginning of each individual part, and there is a time title to each part as well as a time stamp to keep the timing in perspective.

EN-ENJOI!

_**The Twins Potter: Getting "Lucky"**_

_Part I: "No American"- 9:30 P.M., 30(Sunday) April, 1996_

**Recommended Listening: Cowboys from Hell**

**Artist: Pantera**

**Album: Cowboys From Hell**

"Check, check," James Dean Potter muttered into the headset hidden under his balaclava, speaking in a London-styled British accent. "Testing headset and accent, rest, check, Dolores Umbridge is a nutter, check."

"Headset's good, bro," Brian Gates affirmed from his own mike. "Try the accent again, though, it sounds forced. If you get caught, especially by Malfoy or Snape, they'll see right through it. Or _hear_, I guess is more appropriate."

"Right," James nodded, still talking in the accent. He rolled his shoulders and tried to relax. "I'm talking like a common London citizen, and there is no trace of Yankee in my voice. I am a God. I am Richard Petty, check, check…" pulled his balaclava off and turned to Brian. "Are you sure these are going to work?"

Brian Allen Gates was one of his best friends, and someone he considered a brother. With brown hair so rich it could have been black, and eyes so dark they looked like empty, bottomless pits, he had a rather hollow air about him. Coupled with his sharp, angular features, many who didn't know him would say he looked unemotionally evil, but Brian was anything but. He was always the quickest to laugh, to smile, to anger.

"It was your broadcasting spell that you yourself invented, man. Your voice is crystal clear."

They were in the nearest empty, unused classroom to the Ravenclaw common room. Their biggest prank to date was about to take place, and James thought that it would have taken place much later than only his fifth year. Professor Dolores Jane Umbridge had forced his hand, however.

"We'll show her for running Dumbledore off and carving up my brother's hand," he had uttered the day she had risen to the rank of Headmistress. And after two weeks of meticulous planning, hoarding, scrounging, and inventing, James had come up with an almost foolproof plan. Most professional pranksters did.

"They're gonna work, bro," Brian assured. "We may not have found out how to make muggle electronics work on the grounds or the castle yet, but this is gonna work just fine."

He was talking, of course, about the headsets. A couple of headphones, wired with a chopped up telephone and scrunched into a small, compact piece of communication equipment made them easy to fit under the identity-obscuring balaclavas. A spell invented by James himself and refined over three years of research, hard-work, and good ole trial-and-error made the things capable of communicating to one another.

"I know, I know, I'm just getting ripped up by pre-prank jitters. No big," he assured. He rubbed his hands down his face and noted with shock that he felt the slightly raspy feel of stubble. He was growing up, and a beard was a part of that. He mentally added shaving onto his list of things to do, right underneath _Kill Voldemort, brush teeth, kiss mother goodnight, and making sure to wash behind the ears._

"What's the hold-up with Travis?"

"Dunno," Brian shrugged. "He has to dress like you, and lug all of that mountain climbing gear. He probably is having some difficulty finding a place to put all of that, and all the modified fireworks."

"Yeah," James agreed, but still not comforted. Pre-op nerves could get the best of even the best, and he was about to attempt the biggest prank of his Hogwarts career. It calmed him, however, to note that he wasn't doing it for personal glory, but for far more personal reasons. "She carved up their hands, man."

"I know, and we can't _report_ her use of blood-quills either because she monitors all the mail and the floo. We've been over it again and again. Listen, dude, just _calm down_. Travis is going to get here, and Kiara's gonna be back any minute from her prefect patrol and then we can go over the plan one last time, just to make sure. Aight?"

"Roger," James breathed, sighing heavily. Sitting down at one of the many dusty desks, he started double checking his gear. A small, tight, compartmentalized book bag holding spray paint, manila folders, a lockpick set, twenty copies of The Quibbler, and various "diversionary tactics," sat at his feet while a magically enchanted duffel bag with a crate loaded with a pair of Hagrid's own Blast-Ended Skrewts inhabited the other. The duffel tossed and turned slightly every few moments, telling James how riled up they were.

His headset and balaclava were fresh, clean, and ready for use. His black thermal t-shirt was tight to the lines of his lean torso, but not completely form fitting, either. Black and gray camouflaged fatigues were nice and baggy enough to allow him to walk freely in them, but not enough to be a hindrance in tight spaces. Loose, old combat boots adorned his feet with comfortable, reliable protection. A pair of light mesh gloves covered his hands, jet black and slightly shiny from the athletic breathing material that comprised them. A pair of small knee and elbow pads were firmly velcroed to his joints (a lesson he wouldn't readily forget, after he cracked his knees when he almost got caught "borrowing" a deadly potions cookbook from Professor Snape's office). A stiff black vest covered his chest and was adorned with pouches, all filled with wet-start, no heat fireworks, Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, Wildfire Whizbangs, Extendable Ears, a few Daydream Charms and Decoy Detonators, and even a Portable Swamp.

Having taken a final stock of all his inventory, James stood up and crossed the room and looked out at the dark grounds. He mulled over why he was going through with such a daring plan for what felt like the thousandth time, but the reasons just made him angrier every time he thought about it.

When Harry, Ron and Hermione had started Dumbledore's Army, he was dead set against it. He regretted the words he had spoken that day at the Hog's Head, no matter how true he knew them to be. Starting something so stupid and reckless would accomplish nothing but further jeopardize Dumbledore's waning position and power, and when Ginny mentioned that they should name it "Dumbledore's Army," that was when he lost it.

"Have you no respect for Dumbledore!" he had hollered, causing startled looks from the other students and even the bartender himself, a guy named Aberforth. "This plan is going to get him removed as Headmaster, or worse!"

"_If_ we get caught!" Ginny shot back.

"_When_ you get caught!" James snarled back. "Umbridge, as much of a toad as she is, is damned clever enough to not only catch wind of this little operation, but hunt all of you down personally and make you pay for opposing her! She will get you all expelled, or worse! She can have you all thrown in Azkaban!"

James then proceeded to label Harry a disrespectful mole, berated Ron for being a spineless worm, spited Ginny for trying to be headstrong, accused Hermione of trying too hard to be like him, and called them all a bunch of rebellious, unthoughtful teenagers. He had slammed his butterbeer down on the table and stormed out of the Hog's Head, Brian, Travis, Kiara, and a small group of others who agreed with him trailing like a bunch of whipped puppies. James looked back at that moment with a bitter taste in his mouth. He should have signed up for it for the sole purpose that he _knew_ he could have kept them out of trouble. So that Harry wouldn't have that awful scar of "_I must not tell lies_," on his hand. So that Hermione and Ron wouldn't have had their prefect status all but revoked. So that Harry wouldn't have had to face his own twin brother and choke out that he had been right, and that he should have listened to him. How could James have abandoned his brother to the mercy of a monster in a pink cardigan?

"Pride," he whispered, solemnly. "I was too damn proud of being right that I all but left him in the dust. All of them… to be tortured by that… _bitch_."

"Whatcha say bro?"

"Nothing," James quickly answered. "Just muttering to myself."

"Aight," Brian shrugged, and went back to studying the Marauder's Map.

Hermione, the girl who sacrificed her pride and reputation as a rule-following teacher's pet to keep him and his brothers out of trouble time and time again. Ron, who had quickly made himself accepted into James' surrogate family by the sole fact that he didn't hero worship either of them and defended them as much as they did him. Ginny, that small, skinny girl he and Harry had risked almost everything for just to save her from a seemingly invincible spirit and his dreaded basilisk. The girl who had become so much like a little sister that James, just like Ron, wanted to rip any man's hand that happened to touch her "assets" right off. Harry, his own twin who he hadn't even known existed until he was eight. The boy who was seemingly destined to face Voldemort every night when he slept, and then every waking moment. The _man_ who had stood by James when they faced that Dark Lord in a graveyard and saved his very life when the bastard slashed his chest wide open, as if James were a fish.

James trailed his hand down his chest diagonally, outlining the scar that adorned him from right shoulder to left hip unconsciously. James had let them all down worse than all the times that they _didn't_ let him down, and he _would_ make amends.

…

Brian looked up from the Marauder's Map and spared a glance at his best friend and brother, James. He was taking a final inventory of his equipment, but instead of joking around and making playful wisecracks at Brian's expense, he has stone-faced and solemn. Harry and the rest of Dumbledore's Army's punishment hit all of them in the chest, but none as nearly as bad as James. Brian could only imagine what James could be feeling, knowing his twin was being punished so harshly and illegally. Harry was a brother to all of them, but he and James were twins. That made them, if only by name alone, closer to each other then Travis or Ron or even Brian himself ever could.

James was short, the smallest of the three best friends. With dark red hair reaching just a little past his ears, green eyes as vibrant and keen as their mother's, and a fine-lined face, he would have been one of the most handsome faces at Hogwarts, if not for the broken nose and the scars riding across his eye and up his neck.

Brian lurched every time he saw those. James had earned them almost a year ago, when he and Harry and Cedric had gone into that maze at the end of the Tournament. They walked in all nervous smiles and cheering. They exited by flying out by Portkey; Cedric covered in Jimmy Dean's blood as he tried to stop it from spurting out. According to James, he didn't remember the "incident." But Harry said that James had stood up to Voldemort. Had dueled the evil sucker face to face even, all for harming Harry and trying to kill Cedric.

James was immediately taken aside by Snape, to everyone's shock. He was an inch from death because of blood loss, and Snape had snapped his fingers and all that was left were angry red scars. Pomfrey had needed to administer Blood-Replenishing potions to him intravenously because he was unconscious, but other than that, he was physically fine.

Mentally, however, James wasn't the same.

He had picked up the habit of smoking cigarettes, and got violent when somebody tried to stop him. He no longer stood up for the younger students who got bullied; he merely walked past them without a second look. And then there was the incident with the first Dumbledore's Army meeting. James normally would have been the first to sign up for such a daring, against-the-rules action, all in the hopes of just getting away with it, but had angrily decried it. Brian was loyal to his brother and best friend, but that was not why he followed the fuming redhead out of the Hog's Head that day.

He followed him because he knew that despite the doubts about his stability, he had known Jimmy Dean had been right.

…

"Hey, sorry I'm late," Travis greeted as he walked in. "The spool get snagged, and I had to re-wrap the climbing cable."

"It's aight, bro," Brian acknowledged with an upward nod. "We're just waiting until Kiara gets here from her patrol."

"I see," Travis claimed. "Shouldn't you be with her, Prefect Jammie?"

Travis Jermaine Barker had only gotten taller in their five years at Hogwarts. At a solid six-foot-five, he was easily taller than even Ron, and he had the physique to match. Muscles rippled under the matte-black thermal he wore. His attire matched James', but had a helmet and picks and various other climbing gear latched to his belt. He had chopped his waist length, fish-tailed dreadlocks into a more manageable neck length style, tied back to his neck. His warm, kind, chocolate brown eyes were always belying a hidden intelligence and a darker, slightly more sinister sense of humor.

"Officially, I am," James replied quietly. Tearing his gaze from the dark gardens of Hogwarts, he turned and sat down at the desk where Brian sat with the Map. "Emma's doing her part for this already, so let's go over this one last time."

"Okay," Brian sat up to edge of his seat. "James, you are going to sneak up to Umbridge's office. I'm going to guide you by headset, telling you where patrolling prefects are, if Peeves or Filch are in a corridor, and when your path is all clear.

"Travis is going to climb the Astronomy Tower by cable, as he is banned from flying a broom, and his eagle animagus can't see at night. When he gets there, he is going to wait until James' mark to set off so many fireworks and Decoy Detonators, all the teachers and prefects will be forced to gravitate to the area."

"And completely ruin the place in the process," Travis smiled, only slightly devious.

"When you give the mark, Jimmy Dean, you'll make your way into Umbridge's office and spray paint a bunch of Dumbledore's Army graffiti on the walls, ruin her classroom, and release the Skrewts to just add to the carnage.

"And when all those explosives go off, Travis is going to skedaddle from that tower with the package for Plan B, put in place by Kiara. Then he will proceed to Plan B's work site, and wait for James to give the call if he so needs it.

"We are to communicate by military phonetics when at all possible. We are to use our codenames, based off of our Animagi, at all times to prevent eavesdroppers from finding out our identities."

A knock sounded at the door. "Guys?" Kiara Emmaline Kennedy's voice sounded through it.

"We're here, Em."

The door opened and a stunning vision of Irish beauty hit the three boys' eyes. A lithe, petite body mixed with rich brown hair and deep, dark blue eyes made her one of the most sought after girls in school. James couldn't help but think back to when he first met Kiara, on the Hogwarts Express. She had fainted upon seeing Harry's scar and James had been the only one to really help her. Travis wrote her off, Harry and Ron were terrified of cooties, and Brian "had his hands full." She had been a meek, terrified little girl back then, who had been under the dreaded eye of her overbearing, and sometimes abusive father, Kieran. But now… well, now she was something akin to a mirror image of James; smart, clever, and independent. Only she didn't smoke. Oh, and she was actually doing her homework.

"'Plan B' is in place," she nodded at Travis, who stood a little straighter upon receiving her gaze. "The package is in place underneath the main floor of the Tower, and a broom is stashed behind the suit of armour in the corridor adjacent to her office."

"Okay, sounds good," James declared.

He stood up, and put on his back pack. Tightening it so that it was flush to his back, he swung the duffel across his shoulders and put his silver-lensed aviators over his eyes, followed by the communicator. He pulled the plain black balaclava over his head and positioned it so that it and the shades were all in perfect alignment. "Shall we?" He asked Travis, motioning to the door. Travis mirrored his action.

"Ladies first," he grinned.

"Go to hell," James grinned back. He walked to the door, and stood in front of Kiara, who hadn't moved.

"Good luck," she whispered as she hugged him. "I know revenge is never the right answer, James, but I think that this time, it may be what is right."

"Thanks, Em," James muttered into her hair. Emma let James go a little too quickly, however, when Travis walked out. Knowing what she wanted, James walked halfway down the corridor and pretended to look out a window.

Travis stepped through the threshold, and was stopped by Kiara with a gentle touch to his arm. They stood outside of the classroom for a few moments, and James watched them curiously from the corner of his eye. Kiara whispered something into Travis' ear, kissed him on the cheek, and tied a familiar looking strip of cloth around his bicep. Travis looked stuck between smitten and embarrassed, but thanked Kiara regardless. He hugged her, and then watched longingly as she swayed back to the common room.

James walked up Travis at that point. "Are you two…?"

"What? No," Travis answered just a little too quickly, a little too defensively.

"Right," James nodded, mockingly agreeing. "Well, I guess that means I can-"

"Don't even think about it," Travis sneered angrily. "Your casual outlook on relationships is below what Kiara deserves."

"Recommend that Ernie Mac follows his crush and try to ask her to Hogsmeade," James finished, his balaclava masking his look of hurt.

"Oh," Travis quipped. "Well, don't do that, either. That simpering, kiss-ass Hufflepuff wimp doesn't deserve her, either."

"…"

"Look, dude, about what I just said-"

"Was never heard by anybody I know," James assured. Clapping his best friend on the back, he held his hand up. Travis grasped it so that their thumbs were overlapped, and then they gripped the other's hand at the fingers, and bumped fists. "Force par l'honneur, mon frère," James stated with definition.

"Strength through honor, brother," Travis agreed.

Brian's head popped out of the classroom. "You two better get oscar mike, while the night is still young."

"Right," Travis consented, looking up from his feet and casually waving a mock salute. "I'm On Mission, oh-glorious leader."

"Roger that, Travis Bravo is oscar mike. Don't forget to use the NATO phonetics, Trav."

"Roger that."

"I guess I better get on the move, too," James nodded at Brian and took off down the corridor, ready to lay waste to Umbridge's life.

"James?"

Stopping suddenhly and turning on his heels acrobaticly, James regarded his Eye in the Sky."Yeah, Brian?"

"Remember; no American."

…

_Part II: CliffHanger_

**Recommended Listening: Lit Up**

**Artist: Buckcherry **

**Album: Buckcherry**

10:15 P.M.

"Overlord Wolf, I'm at my position, ready to climb Alpha-Tango Tower."

"_Aye, aye, Eagle_," Brian acknowledged. "_You better get climbing that Tower, James is getting close to Umbridge's office_."

"I read that," Travis answered. He hefted his rappel gun and attached the climbing hook the end. Securing the line to the gun, he aimed down the telescopic sight and pulled the trigger. Snapping his belt clip onto the cable, he began his ascent.

Despite the fact that he would have to expand the effort of climbing up to the tower rather than merely flying up to the top, Travis was grateful James decided to make him climb. As easy as it would be to fly up to the tower and wait on a broom or as an eagle, it was fun to climb. The feel of the yellow-gray granite beneath him, the clank of his climbing picks, and the digging in of the spikes on his boots all made him feel so _alive_. Not least the fact that if he fell, he'd plummet well over five hundred feet to his death.

"Nothing like the possibility of attending your own funeral to make you feel alive," he had said before, and had grunted the quote again as he scaled the spire that was the Astronomy Tower. Digging the picks into the softer, brittle mortar in between the actual stones, he hefted his way halfway up before he realized it.

A couple rows of stones protruded from the wall three-fourths of the way up, and he was ahead of schedule, so Travis paused for a moment. Pulling up his balaclava, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up, silently cursing James Dean as he did so. The little red-headed punk got him started on the disgusting habit, and it had been hell trying to keep it quiet from teachers and parents alike.

Puffing in on the smoke, he let the toxic fumes warm his lungs in the wide open, chilly April air. It was drizzling, with the promise of an all-out downpour.

"April showers bring May flowers," Travis reassured himself against the bleak weather.

Continuing to drag hits off the filtered death-stick, he idly listened as Brian, codenamed Wolf after his Animagus, lead James past prefect patrols and drifting ghosts. He paid half an ear to their chatter laced with technical jargon and military inspired phonetics while he mused about his best friend. James had been worrying him as of late.

Well, worrying was an understatement. It was more like... scaring the living hell out of him.

First was James' own bad habit of smoking. Ever since that night where he, Cedric Diggory and Harry came back from that graveyard, yelling "Voldemort's back," he had picked up the smokes and mysteriously latched onto them. Travis had to admit, they did relieve quite a bit of stress, but James smoked nearly a pack of the foul things a day. Travis didn't know how he could do it, or even how he got away with it. He didn't even know how he got a hold them, to be honest.

And then there was his choice in relationships, and how he went about them. Travis supposed it was his rather nasty experience with one Luca Carruse, that red-headed little Gryffindor wench he dated back in third year. James had gotten rather attached to her, and when he caught her snogging an older Hufflepuff, he had been devastated. James Dean shrugged off Kiara and Brian's condolences, saying that he was fine. They believed him, but Travis was more in tune to his best friend than even his twin, Harry. He had loved her as much as a thirteen year-old boy could, but she had claimed that it was "not really serious," when James confronted her.

Luca had pained James; hell, she _scarred_ him. And through her painful brush-off, she had influenced James into taking a similar outtake on relationships; never getting attached, keeping it all _casual_… His lady killer attitude killed Travis to see. Unfortunately for four other girls at Hogwarts, it killed them even more.

Hannah Abbott was a sweet girl, who could make you laugh. But to James, she just wasn't exciting enough.

Daphne Greengrass was his date to the Yule Ball. James asked her, against his best friend's advice and his own judgement, and both of them were bitten by it because of one Draco Malfoy.

Cho Chang was an emotional wreck as it was when Cedric Diggory broke up with her, but to be the object of both Harry and James Potter's duelling affections? The two nearly made her romantically brain-dead, all because James was at odds with his twin. Ever since Dumbledore's sacking, though, James had ignored Cho and acted as if she hadn't even existed, knowing but not caring that she and Harry didn't work out, and that she was desperate for some kind of love. Unfortunately for her, she didn't realize that she was looking for a type of love James couldn't give. All James saw was Harry, and all he wanted was to make amends to him. Cho was just a bump in the road, long forgotten...

And then there was Ginevra Molly Weasley. The poor girl James called a little sister was confused enough as it was, harbouring feelings for both Potter twins. But James' casual, mindless flirtations just served to spin her in circles, telling her that he wasn't interested in her that way, just to turn around and make some lewd remark...

And then there was his actions throughout the school year. He picked on little Slytherins like Draco Malfoy would belittle first year Hufflepuffs. Many would agree that the little snakes deserved it, but Travis knew better. James had pent up emotions, mainly anger and frustration, that he was venting. Malfoy himself got stunned so bad he openly admitted he was terrified of James.

That's saying something, coming from a Malfoy.

"_Eagle, I'm almost at the sight, you ready_?" James' voice, hidden by a posh British accent to help further cover his identity, called over to Travis. His monotonous, almost _professional_ tone snapped Travis out of his ruminations.

"Just about, Hawk. Just give the word that you're ready, and we'll blow this shindig."

It killed Travis to have to be friends with James. He was his brother, his best friend, and the closest person to his heart without actually being a love interest. And he was becoming a monster.

"_Roger. I'm oscar mike to the Office."_

Travis flicked his smoke and watched it fall before he resumed his climbing. When he reached the summit, he stopped. The lip was extended a good foot, maybe more. Travis prepared himself to make the transition.

Gripping his pick with his right hand, he lifted his left and found a hold around the stone battlement. Feeling confidant, he swung his right up onto the other and nearly had a heart attack. The stone felt loose, and Travis nearly lost his grip as his entire right side of his body slumped with the broken stone as it fell. His pick, chained to his wrist dangled as he watched in fear as the granite block hurtled to the earth below. His left hand shaking from the exertion, he clamped his right down onto it and held for dear life. Feeling his wrist give, he felt the sudden weightlessness sensation of free fall.

Thirty seconds later, he was gripping the stone battlement with razor-sharp eagle talons, still shuddering from the fact that he had almost hurtled to his death. He shook not with fear, however; but for the fact that he felt so _alive_.

"_Eagle, you in position?"_ Brian's voice called over the set. Travis had forgotten all about the prank, his headset and gear all piled on the Aswtronomy Tower floor. The shuddering gears of the astronomical equipment keeping in time with the constellations was the only other noise, and it was one that had beaten along with Travis' racing heartbeat.

Welcome, dear friends, to Adrenaline Addiction 101.

Travis snapped out of his eagle form and scooped up his mike. "Strong affirmative, Wolf."

"_Right. Hawk, you're oscar mike_," Brian ordered to James.

"_Roger that, I'm on mission_," James replied. A few minutes passed as Brian finished leading James through the fire and flames. And then James, still disguised by his smooth British accent, called out the all-go.

"_Eagle, blow it high. Star, star, star!"_

"Texas blowout, I got it."

Travis pulled out the fireworks and various other explosive wonders from his pack. Pulling out his wand, he flicked and swished his wrist, scattering them to all corners of the grounds. Then, he snapped his wrist down and wordlessly lit all of them. Simultaneously.

The sound of over thirty exploding, sparkling flashes hit the grounds as if it was being bombarded by mortar fire. They banged, whistled, and flew; all of them causing such a loud echo in the upper atmosphere around the Astronomy Tower that Travis had to clamp his hands over his ears, lest his eardrums ruptured.

After the noise subsided the vague, distant voices of screaming prefects and Inquisitorial Squad members barely, but surely reached Travis and his ringing ears. He reached underneath the floorboards of the Tower and felt the PVC pipe he was looking for. Emma had left it there for him, on the patrol James was supposedly a part of. Emma, he thought. He could not conceive how he could have been so harsh to that wonderful, beautiful girl when he first met her... Pushing the distractingly appetizing thought aside, he grabbed the modified potato gun, he stood back up and started laying down round two of the fireworks.

"Now that I got your attention…" he muttered as he clamped his cable to his belt after he finished laying the exploding wonders to the floor. He secured the potato gun to his back, and started his descent to the grounds.

Halfway down, Travis snapped his wand again, and released the brake on his line. As he hurtled down towards the earth, the Astronomy Tower blew up in a most magnificent explosion of reds, greens, and blues. The full moon was eclipsed by the radiant explosion that lit up even the furthest corner of the valley Hogwarts resided in. Pieces of mortar and planks of wood scattered around Travis as he freefell towards the safety of the ground, so powerful was the ignition.

"Hawk, Wolf, Alpha Tower is fubar," Travis announced as he hit the ground, his ears ringing so loud he could barely hear. "I'm proceeding to the backup point as needed."

"_Hawk, I think we may have a problem here_," Travis barely heard Brian's warning, much less its hint of worry.

"_What is it, I'm almost done-"_

"_Malfoy and the Inquisitorials are heading in the opposite direction of the tower. In fact, they are heading __right__ in your direction."_

"_Bullocks! I'm hurrying; I have found something welcomingly unintended. I think it could end Umbridge."_

"_What are you doing, snooping through her desk?"_

"_Well... yeah."_

"_That was not part of the plan, Hawk! You were to deface the class, ruin her office! Not steal shit from her!"_

"_This was a chance of a lifetime! If we can get this to Dad, anonymously, she'll be sent to Azkaban, no doubt!"_

Travis knew he had to get to the sight of Plan B, quick. Sprinting as fast as his large, muscular frame could manage, he made it in record time. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was eleven o'clock already.

"_Just hurry up, they're getting closer!"_

"_I am, I am… just gotta release the Skrewts…"_

Travis skidded to the ground two hundred meters outside the wall where the D.A.D.A classroom and office was, and pulled the potato gun's screw-cap off hurriedly. He packed in a small, warhead-shaped charge Emma had left with the gun in the tube and aimed at the wall, fifth floor. The projectile was designed to be aerodynamic and capable of shattering through the thick walls of the castle, but to lose its kinetic energy after it shattered the wall; it was ninety-nine-point-nine-nine percent positive that no one would be fatally injured when it hit. The "warhead" was loaded with Peruvian Darkness Powder and propelled by a Whizzing Whizbang, so James would be able to make an almost clean getaway, minus a rather large hole in the wall. A copious amount of hairspray, courtesy of Ginny, Kiara, Hermione, Lavender Brown, and the Patil twins, all pressurized into a single combustion chamber, would make the missile fly with a big, loud, but most importantly _fast_, boom.

"_James, they're right on top of you!"_

"_I'm done, I'm done! I'm leav-"_ James cut himself off, and a multitude of angry voices were screaming over his mike, but Travis couldn't make out what they were saying. It seemed like James was caught.

"_James? _JAMES_!"_ Brian thundered over the headset, but James, it seemed, was ignoring him.

"_Eagle? Go. To plan. B."_

…

_Part III: To Unleash the Fury of a Tyrant…_

**Recommended Listening: Free Speech For the Dumb**

**Artist: Metallica**

**Album: Garage Days, Inc(Disc 2)/(Disc 1)**

_10:33 P.M._

"Eagle, I'm almost at the sight, you ready?" James asked, hidden behind a suit of armour on the second floor.

"_Just about, Hawk. Just give the word that you're ready, and we'll blow this shindig."_

"Roger. I'm oscar mike to the Office," James replied, moving out from behind the armour and sneaking down the hall. Galloping silently up the stairs, he proceeded down the hall that would take him to the Defence against the Dark Arts portion of the castle.

"_Hawk, hold up. Peeves is flying down the corridor across from your position, it looks like he is turning towards your hall."_

"Peeves, aye," James answered as he jumped into a class room. "There's nowhere to hide- wait a minute…"

James pulled the curtains from the windows and found that they had a ledge. Jumping onto it and pulling his body flush with the panes, he yanked the curtains closed. As soon as they stopped swishing, the door banged open and Peeves barged into the empty class.

"Hello? Hello? I heard a little noise-o!" he sang as he banged what sounded suspiciously like a cat into the chalkboard and wailed, obviously trying to frighten James into popping out of his hiding spot. "No? Well then I guess I'll just be on my… WAY!"

A splash soaked the wall next to James with dirty, foul smelling water.

"Hm, guess Peevsie heard wrongsie…"

James waited a moment, before Brian sounded the all-clear. Jumping off the ledge, he couldn't believe what he saw. A dripping wet, half shaven, totally delirious Mrs. Norris stumbled on a broken leg toward James, her usually bright and evil orange eyes half-closed and dim.

"Okay, you shaved pussy, I hate your guts, but this is just ridiculous," James uttered in shock as she hobbled to him. He didn't know that he'd ever feel sorry for the devil-cat. James hated cats. Why was he feeling sorry for the worst feline ever? "Alright, I'll help you, but after tonight we're enemies again, okay? Peeves, the dirty _copycat_… stole my prank…"

Brandishing his Celtic-designed yew wand, James felt the sphinx-hair core charge up at his touch. "Episkey," he whispered, pointing it at her leg. With a sickening snap, the leg popped back into place. James performed a hair growth charm to replace the shaved bits, waved up a drying charm, and scratched her behind her ears.

"Get going, pest," James ordered as the cat shambled to the door. "Hey, you ain't gonna tell on me, are ya?"

The cat turned and looked him in the eye. She winked and then slinked off down the corridor.

"Well, there's one more crisis averted," James sighed as he walked out of the door. "Wolf, I'm oscar mike."

"_Roger that, Hawk."_

James continued his trek towards the DADA corridor. Nothing hindered him from there. "Eagle, blow it high. Star, star, star!" James whispered into his mike.

"_Texas blowout, I got it_," Travis acknowledged back. The first set of explosions rattled the castle windows and not a whole lot else. The noise, however, would be more than enough to cause a few heads to turn. The second explosion caused the castle floor to lurch slightly and made such a roar that even the dead in the dungeons would have woken from their eternal slumber.

He unlocked the classroom door and shut the door behind him. Kneeling right in front of it, he ripped the book bag from his back and opened it up. Bewitching the cans of spray paint to begin their assault on the walls, he then waved his wand over the Quibblers, making them open to the page Harry did his interview with Rita Skeeter and had them stuck to each desk, neat and orderly.

"God bless the Queen and the Permanent Sticking Charm," he muttered.

Pulling out his bag of "diversionary tactics," he dumped them onto Umbridge's desk in the classroom. Opening the top, middle drawer, he began placing a new Weasley invention, Invisible Mousetraps, into it. Opening the various other drawers, he began placing other small traps and complicatory measures into them, such as naked inflatable dolls and fireworks that were activated when the drawer was opened, thanks to James' intricate wire-traps.

Performing a Permanent-Sticking Charm on the graffiti the spray paint had made and on the magazines on the desks, James decided to move on, but not before stopping to admire his handiwork.

"**Long Live Dumbledore's Army!"**

"**Go, Go! Red and Gold!"**

"**Go, Go! Bronze and Blue!"**

"**Bring Back Dumbledore!"**

"**Hufflepuff FTW!"**

"**Who's Awesome? Harry's Awesome!"**

"**Potter for President!"**

"**Harry Potter- Umbitches' replacement for DADA!"**

"**Ravenclaws Do It Best!"**

"**Slytherin Sux!"**

"**I Piss Emerald and Silver the Mornings after a Slytherin Tries to Make Fun of My Mother!"**

And, James' personal favorite**, "Professor Toadface, Azkaban Graduating Class of Two-Thousand Infinity!"**

James looked up at the eastern wall and flinched; it was empty! Grabbing a can of the black spray paint, he shook it as he swaggered to the suspect wall. Raising his eyebrow underneath his mask and shades, he started in on making a message of his own. With wide, broad strokes, he wrote the three words with artistic precision.

"**Change or DIE!"** filled the wall. It was a perfect quote, in James mind. The times were changing, and sitting back and letting the government take care of everything, including screwing everyone over, had to stop. He performed the Permanent-Sticking Charm on the wall and continued on with his mission.

Hoisting the duffel bag, he proceeded up the small flight of stairs behind Umbridge's classroom desk and kicked her office door in. The play made him sick, as usual. It was sugar-coated in a girlish pink, as if Hello Kitty had exploded in the center and had painted the room with its painted anime blood. Lace and doilies were thrown about in a tastelessly extravagant manner. China plates with moving portraits of cats hung on almost every inch of the walls, and they all hissed and growled at him. He stuck his tongue out at them, despite the fact they couldn't actually see it.

Just as he set the bag down and had begun unzipping the enchanted carrier, he caught sight of her desk and came to the realization that even though she was "Headmistress," she never got Dumbledore's office. Every single bit of information she had that could bring her down was right in front of him, unimpeded.

He looked into his bookbag and saw the manila folders; he had packed them in case he had found something useful for him to file away in the midst of the prank. "Looks like I found it…" he muttered with a smile, tapping the folders playfully.

Setting them onto the desk top, James kneeled down in front of the desk. Carefully, he began his snooping. Wary of any possible traps, he slid through file after file, report after report, letter after letter. His grin grew bigger and bigger with each non-educational piece of paperwork he found. Finally, he was smiling so wide his face hurt. All because he had so much information that incriminated Umbridge, reports and orders and personal letters that explained in explicit detail what she was doing at Hogwarts, why she was doing it, and how she was getting away with it. Means, motive, and opportunity; the three words that would patch up James' relationship with his Auror father.

James closed the final drawer when he heard the compartment thump suspiciously. Re-opening it, he noticed that it held a hidden space, as evidenced by the wide spaces between the bottom and the sides.

"James Ignotus Potter Sr.'s rules to being an Auror, Number Nine- 'Never go anywhere without a knife," James recited. Meticulously, he pulled his dingy, SAS-styled combat knife out of his boot and used it to pry open the compartment. James almost fell over in a prankgasm; the secret space held Umbridge's journal!

With wide eyes, he pulled his aviators off and opened the pages and read in tight, cursive writing Umbridge's personal thoughts, feelings, and deepest, darkest secrets. Secrets far, far worse than anything that the reports could ever bring to light. James snapped it shut and sat back on his haunches, suddenly feeling sick.

"What she is planning for this school…" James breathed, disbelieving. He knew she was evil from the moment he saw her, and was never surprised when she did what she did to rise to her position, but this… this more than just shocked James. It all but made him want to kill her.

"_Hawk, I think we may have a problem here."_

…

Draco Malfoy heard the explosions first. Then the windows rattled. Scared beyond belief that the Death Eaters were attacking, he ran to the windows, Pansy Parkinson right behind him. The fireworks outside made a dazzling display of the grounds, lighting them up brighter than the moon.

"Looks like its over," Pansy muttered after a moment. As soon as the words left her mouth, however, it proved to Draco that it had only just begun.

With a deafening roar, the Astronomy Tower's roof was engulfed in a raging explosion that tore its roof clear off. If Draco had been looking down, he would have seen the lone figure with a PVC pipe attached to its back falling to the ground, but his attention was on the Tower. Mouth agape, he stared as the fires and the fireworks lit up the night sky so bright that the hazy, cloud covered moon was momentarily overtaken.

"Pansy, move! We need to get up there!" Draco ordered before even thinking. "Go!"

Halfway up the Grand Staircase, Draco stopped. Why did this situation have his head buzzing? "Potter."

Pansy stopped midstride and almost fell through the missing step. "What?"

"This has to be Potter's doing."

"You think Harry Potter is behind _that_?"

"No. But the other Potter? That is something I can believe in."

Pansy stared at Draco, and then looked pensive. "You think he's after Umbridge."

"Exactly. Go grab the rest of the Inquisitorial Squad. Tonight, we don't just get Potter expelled; we get him sent straight to Azkaban."

Pansy smiled maliciously.

…

_Part IV: Change or DIE!_

**Recommended Listening: Change or Die**

**Artist: Papa Roach**

**Album: Metamorphosis**

10:58 P.M.

"What is it, I'm almost done-"James started, but was cut off by Brian.

"_Malfoy and the Inquisitorials are grouping together and heading in the opposite direction of the tower. In fact, they are heading __right__ in your direction."_

"Bullocks!" James screamed, unintentionally keeping up his guise as a Brit. "I'm hurrying, I have found something welcomingly unintended. I think it could end Umbridge."

"_What are you doing, snooping through her desk?"_

"Well, yeah," James defended as he began smashing the cat-china, much to their consternation.

"_That was not part of the plan, Hawk! You were to deface the class, ruin her office! Not steal shit from her!"_

"This was a chance of a lifetime! If we can get this to Dad, _anonymously_, she'll be sent to Azkaban, no doubt!"

James started double timing it, bewitching more spray paint to deface the walls and the lace. Using his wand, he made all of the plates crash across the room, shattering them effectively and timely.

"_Just hurry up, they're getting closer!"_

"I am, I am… just gotta release the Skrewts…"

Gripping his knife, he stood on top of the crate and slashed the duffel open, exposing the Skrewts to the open air. He unlocked the crates and back flipped out of the office, landing down into the classroom below. As soon as he was down and out of the office, the Skrewts went wild. If James hadn't flipped out of there as quickly as he did…

"Skrewt meat," he muttered.

"_James, they're right on top of you!"_ Brian screamed, throwing procedure to the wind.

"I'm done, I'm done!" James answered in his British accent. Throwing the bag over his shoulders, he ran out of the classroom. "I'm leave-"James cut himself off, as a rather large and surly group of Slytherins cornered him in the hallway.

"Thought you'd get away with this Potter?" Malfoy sneered, pointing his wand at James, Pansy Parkinson, Crabbe and Goyle, Warrington, Montague, and Millicent Bulstrode blocked his path, cornering him to the classroom door.

"_James? _JAMES_!"_ Brian all but wailed over the headset.

"Uh, hey mates…" James greeted, keeping his voice accented. Confusion clouded Malfoy's face. "Eagle? Go to Plan B."

"You mean-no, you have to be him!" Draco cursed, firmly believing he had caught James Dean Potter; which he had, he just didn't know it. James almost laughed at the irony.

"Who is he talking to!"

"Who's Eagle? How are you talking to him?" Draco interrogated, taking a step towards his prey and stiffening his wand arm.

Plan B was taking too long; at this rate, Malfoy would be marching James straight to the gallows. So James did what he did best; he took them by surprise.

"THIS IS A BATTLE CALL!" James screamed suddenly. _That's_ _right, make this out as a political message_, he thought. "TOO ONE, TOO _ALL_! THE OPPOSITION WILL TAKE OUR FALL-"

The wall next to Montague, Warrington, and Bulstrode disappeared in an explosion of white light followed by a mass of darkness powder. The entire corridor filled with the cloud, and Malfoy screamed, "Get him!" amidst a flurry of spells, harmless like a stun to almost deadly jinxes.

James, however, had not been blow off of his feet when the wall crumbled. Ears ringing, he jumped over missile, which was spinning haphazardly as the Whizzing Whizbang bolted to it ripped itself off of the warhead and careened off the walls. James sprinted down the hall and dashed up the stairs. Malfoy, the only intelligent one of the group, clambered right behind him.

James Dean galloped up the stairs three at a time, pointing his wand behind him and blindly shooting stunning spells in his wake. Malfoy blocked them expertly, but he was forced to miss a step or two, slowing him down.

Ducking into the third floor corridor, James sprinted down the hall and found an open, unused classroom. _"No, not that room, Hawk_," Brian advised over the mike. "_Next room down, to your right, has a trapdoor underneath the teacher's desk! It's a dead-end but they don't know about it. Hide!"_

James sprinted down to the door. _"No, not that one! Your other right!"_

"I only have one bloody right, you stupid git!"

"_Shut up and get in there! They've regrouped and following Malfoy to your position!"_

James flung into the room and jumped over the teacher's desk with finesse. "Wolf, where was that door?"

"_Under the desk you're under."_

"Yeah, but _where_?"

"_I dunno, look for an opening. Hold on,"_ Brian answered, sounding distant_. "The Marauders didn't detail… wait, they did! Look for a hole in the third plank from the wall!"_

"Found it," James acknowledged as he counted three boards and found the hard-to-see hole. He ripped the hidden door open and scrambled down into the space. Just as the door slid shut with a snap, Malfoy rushed into the room.

"Search the desk," he ordered to someone. Judging by the footfalls and breathing, it sounded like Millicent.

"He ain't here," she grunted, affirming his impression.

"He has to be in here!" Malfoy screamed as he flipped the desk over. Millicent gave a quick, grunting squeak, obviously scared of Malfoy's wrath. James silently snickered at the idea that a tall, large brute of a girl like Bulstrode could be afraid of someone as skinny and small as Malfoy. "I watched him run in here."

"_James? What's happening?"_

James didn't answer Brian. He kept his breath to long, slow, silent draws as he curled into the floor of the hole.

"Move out, search the other classes!" Malfoy ordered after crashing several other desks and making a crazy tantrum.

"_They're moving away from ya, Hawk. They're leaving… leaving… gone. There is a secret passage at the opposite side of the corridor two floors up that leads to the Transfiguration corridor. It's eighty or ninety meters away…"_

"Which one is it, eighty or ninety? I need to know the _exact_ measurements, Wolf!"

"_Okay, okay, I'm working on it! Jesus, Remus didn't exactly make these measurements easy when they made this map! Why couldn't they just use American measurements?"_

"That's it; Swan's playing Overlord next time!"

"_Easy, easy! It's ninety-six meters down the corridor! You can get up to the common room from there unimpeded; all the other prefects and faculty are at the Alpha Tango. Watch out, though. Crabbe is behind the staircase next to the room, but if you sneak out quietly he shouldn't hear."_

"Roger that, I'm oscar mike," James whispered as he stealthily popped out of the hole. He crab-walked to the door and without making a sound, he opened it slowly. He was halfway out the door when he bumped it and it creaked loudly. Terrified, James turned just in time to see Crabbe's head snap into view from around the corner.

"He's here!" the oaf thundered stupidly, pointing. "Don't know how he done made himself disappears, but you was right! He's here!"

If the stupid troll had charged and tackled rather than stood and pointed, he would have gotten James. But years of playing Chaser made James quick and agile, not to mention instinctual. He was halfway down the hall by the time Crabbe had opened his mouth.

"Don't stand there, you brute! Lead the rest up this flight and cut him off, we'll chase him," Draco commanded as he tore off after James, Pansy and Warrington in tow.

James once again sprinted up the stairs, but this chase was killing him. He was a short, speedy sprinter. Malfoy was a tall, consistent marathon runner; the math didn't add up to James having the advantage. James was slowing down. He ran into the corridor with a renewed burst of speed, however. He saw the entry to secret passage. It was within his grasp… thirty meters… twenty…

Montague, Crabbe, and Goyle emerged on the side other of the hall, panting from running up the stairs. Their arrival put them into the way of the passage. "Bullocks!"

"You're trapped, terrorist," Malfoy jeered as he pointed his wand at James.

"Terrorist? I'm not the one who belittles first years and threatens mudbloods of an impending doom," James taunted back. "I'm a freedom fighter, Malfoy. You're just a bully; sad and pathetic."

"That's it, mouse," Warrington pushed. "Keep insulting those cats who have you cornered."

"I am not a mouse, _Slytherin_."

"You sure look like one," Pansy insulted, holding her hand up to her mouth and making a rat face. "Helpless and stalled."

"That's a nice look for you, Parkinson," James insulted, chuckling as her hands dropped from her mouth and her face burned red. "Really goes with the Ferret."

That shut them up.

"I'm not stalled, nor am I helpless," James assured her, pulling a pair of objects from his vest. "Anything but."

"He's got something!"

"Take 'im down!"

A massive crossfire of spells rang out. James jumped backwards and hit the wall as he threw a crystal of Darkness Powder one way, the portable swamp the other. Pansy and Malfoy were engulfed in muck as Crabbe and Goyle disappeared into a haze of black.

With nowhere else to go, James got up. He had two choices; get beaten up by Montague, Crabbe and Goyle, or get hexed into the next century by Malfoy, Parkinson, and Warrington. Torn between the brutes and the cruel, he chose the window.

…

_Part V: Reparation for Services Rendered_

**Recommended Listening: Closer**

**Artist: Nine Inch Nails**

**Album: The Downward Spiral**

**11:10 P.M.**

James fell through the darkness. A downpour had started and he was almost immediately soaked as he fell. Malfoy and someone else were shooting spells at him blindly as he turned into his red-tailed hawk animagus. Almost everything else changed with him; the backpack didn't.

Tumbling in mid-air, he struggled to free his wings from the tight straps. His wings were too long and didn't bend like a human arm, so he was well and good trapped. There was no time to change back to human form, rip off the pack and change back, as the ground was hurtling towards him with dizzying speed...

_So this is how my world ends_, James thought disdainfully. _Not_ _with a bang, but a rather solid crunch-_

The bag was grabbed fifty feet above the ground and James couldn't see what saved him.

"He has an accomplice!" Warrington screamed as he shot a spell at James.

The bag was lifted up and James was brought face to face with his savior; a girl whose face was hidden behind a shawl made into a mask and dark goggles. She wore a school uniform minus the robe; instead, she was wrapped up against the chill air by a tight, thin sweater, which was well and good wet from the rain. The only distinguishing feature about her was long, dark brown hair whipping wildly behind her. She placed James and the bag between her legs and shot off, away from the castle. The Inquisitorial Squad shot spell after spell at them, but the girl expertly flew the broom around them, making each shot miss.

The girl piloted the broom to the opposite side of the castle. As she flew high over the Astronomy Tower, James saw firsthand what happened to it. The roof was blown sheer off, and its remnants lay strewn across the grounds in hundreds of pieces. The floor was punched through and had collapsed almost three floors down. The top of the tower was bathed in black soot and small, dying fires. The prefects and teachers down below didn't see the broom as it flew over; the girl had taken them up to high for the naked human eye to see through sheets of rain. The keener eyes of a hawk, no matter how horrible they were in the dark, however, saw Umbridge very clearly berating prefect and professor alike as if the catastrophe was their fault.

Once the girl had deemed that they were safe, she lowered the broom down and landed on a perch next to a window on the third floor and kicked the pane in. Ducking in, she landed on the floor and pulled James and the broom inside as well. She carefully extracted the pack from James Dean's wings and stepped back, allowing him to change back.

He did so, and stood up. "Thanks," he nodded at her. He saw her smile and pointed at the wall next the painting of Barnabas the Barmy.

"We'll hide in there until the morning."

"Sounds good," James agreed as he scooped up the bag and followed her as she opened up the Room of Requirement.

James walked in after her and felt the door disappear behind him. With her back to him, the girl tugged the shawl and goggles off, releasing her mane of dark brown hair. She tussled the wet locks into an acceptable mess. James took off his aviators and mask as well as he leaned against the wall.

"Seriously, thanks," James expressed his gratitude as she turned to regard him face to face. "You really saved me back there, Kiar- _Daphne_?"

"One and only," the Slytherin girl chirped, smiling at James. She looked James up and down before regarding him again. "The secrets of Umbridge's office better be worth the price you almost paid."

"They are," James assured her cautiously. He hugged the bag to himself and stared at her warily. "How did you-

"Know you were in trouble? I have my ways," She rolled her eyes at him. "And don't be crass! I want that hag to pay as much as you do!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Prove it."

"She threw Tracey into detention for falling down the staircase and causing her to fall. She carved up my best friend's hand because she got shoved by some jerk she refused to go out with!"

James stared at Daphne, unmoving for a long moment. He had heard about Tracey Davis running from Umbridge's office one night, holding her hand and sobbing as she ran through the halls. James relaxed and threw the bag into a corner. "I'm sold," he relented.

"Good, 'cause I'm buying," Daphne announced taking a step towards James.

"Huh?"

"I put a lot on the line by saving you, James," she announced, looking him up and down again, lecherously. "I want… payment. Reparations for putting my neck on the chopping block for you."

It was James Dean's turn to roll his eyes. "Typical Slytherin; always looking out for number one."

"Oh, I think you'll find that what I'm suggesting is going to work in both our favors."

"Oh?"

"'Oh,'" Daphne agreed before she shoved James against the wall, crushed her lips to his and jumped, wrapping her legs around his waist. Though at first surprised, James immediately stopped coherent thought and let his hormones do his thinking for him as he snogged back. It may have been hormones, or maybe the adrenaline that still surged through his veins at his near-death escape. Or maybe it was the soft and sensual feeling of her lips, the slow caress of her tongue on his. All James knew was that she felt _good_.

Shoving her tongue down his throat, Daphne moaned into his mouth and dug her fingernails into his biceps. She finally stopped making out with him, leaving them both gasping for air.

"Oh," James muttered in revelation.

Dropping her legs down from his hips, she started releasing the snaps to his vest before ripping it off. Then she tugged his shirt, pulling the clammy and wet thermal over his head and tossing it to the floor. As she did this, James looked up at the room in embarrassment. His scars were not something he showed off to anyone.

Either by Daphne's original design, or because the Room had changed to fit their actions, it was bedecked in a romantic dark red. A heart shaped bed covered in red silk sheets and pink pillow cases sat in the center of the room while bed tables sat next to each side, a chilled bottle of champagne chilling in ice on both. The carpet was thick, and just as red as the bed. The ceiling was nothing but a large mirror.

Daphne, having finished taking off James' shirt, grabbed one of his hands and stuck the tip of his middle finger in her mouth, taking the mesh glove off with a tug of her head. She mimicked the action for his other hand and then met his lips again. Once the glove was discarded, she ran her hands across his torso, a lone finger tracing the long, deep scar that ran from his left shoulder down past his hip.

James, overcome by her advances, pushed her toward the bed. He stopped just shy of it and looked at her.

"Are you just gonna stand there, or do I have to take these bothersome clothes off myself?"

James didn't need to be told twice. He wasn't as slow with the stripping process as Daphne was, and he all but took his knife to her attire. Within seconds she was wearing nothing but her pink cotton knickers, knee high socks, and a mischievous grin. Her white blouse, tartan plaid skirt and sweater lay forgotten on the floor, torn or missing more than a few buttons.

She gripped him by his belt and pulled him along as she fell back to the bed. Once again their lips met, only this time it was slower and much softer, sensual. Time stretched and before James knew it he was naked and had her legs up on his shoulders. He ripped her panties off with a bestial pull, and stopped to look down at the body he was about to shag. Ice blue eyes stared at him pleadingly on a pale, heart shaped face. A slim and petite body covered in smooth, creamy flesh begged him to kiss it. Toned legs sat on his shoulders, still clad in their sheer white stockings.

"Are you going to take them off, too?"

"No," he answered, his eyes boring into hers. "Your legs look hotter with them on."

"Make me scream," she suddenly demanded.

He more than happily obliged.

…

Half an hour later, James collapsed on top of Daphne's heaving body, the both of them riding wave after wave of pleasure. He buried his sweaty face into the crook of her equally doused neck, gasping for breath. With her chest rising up and down heavily, she wove her hands into his slightly shaggy hair and teased it, pulling this way and that. She started braiding it slightly, and then just ran her hands through it, smoothing it out.

Finally catching his breath, James sat up on the bed and reached out to his fatigues. Fumbling his smokes and lighter out of one of the pockets, he lay back down next to her as he flipped his Zippo and took a drag. Daphne turned and cuddled into his warm chest, reaching out to the pack of cigarettes. He reached out to stop her, but she merely yanked them away from his grasp, stole his lighter, and proceeded to light herself one as well.

"You could have asked," James teased as he took his Zippo back.

"No fun," she answered as she took her first drag. As soon as she did, however, she immediately started coughing, much to his amusement.

"First timers," he jokingly mocked.

"How do you stand this?" she choked, still coughing.

He laughed and took hers from her and took another drag from both of them before replying, "Experience."

She grabbed hers from his mouth and took another puff. It didn't make her cough that time around. They finished their smoking in silence, him wrapping an arm around her shoulders and she curling her legs into his. The Room gave them an ash tray, which James used to put out the cigarettes.

"So… what now?" he asked once had left the filters smouldering in the glass tray.

"You haven't made me scream loud enough yet, Mr. Potter," she answered into his neck as she nibbled on it.

"My apologies," he sucked up. "But you know you loved that."

"Oh, I did. But I think I'm going to enjoy round two much, much more."

"Round two?" James asked, bewildered.

Daphne moved her mouth down his chest and bit one of his nipples. She smiled against his skin at his sharp intake of breath, and continued her way down. James, this time with _his_ back to the sheets, didn't mind letting her drive. It looked like she was going to town, he decided. And he really, _really_ liked watching her go about doing it.

…

Part VI: The Morning After/Epilogue

5:30 A.M., 1 April(Monday), 1996

James woke up before six that morning for some odd reason; he was absolutely tired. A clock had appeared on the bed side table sometime over the course of his and Daphne's sleep, which in all honesty wasn't long. His first feeling was warmth, as she had collapsed on his chest after their last romp on the bed that night. James wasn't sure how many times they went at it, because he lost count after two in the morning.

The room seemed to know that he needed an early rise, however. He had things to take care of and they needed to get done quickly, before class. Daphne, on the other hand, had a different idea.

Her face was pressed in his chest. She was drooling slightly as she snored softly, which surprisingly didn't disgust him. Her arm curled across his abdomen possessively and her leg had wrapped around his and held it tight. She looked so cute and peaceful that James didn't want to disturb her. But the manila folders residing in the backpack across the room called to him, and their importance was not something he could ignore. Carefully extracting himself from Daphne's embrace, James got out of the silky comforts of the bed and stood in the cool morning air, just to collapse on the floor in pain.

His abdomen and hips were so sore he could barely move them. It felt like Daphne had worked out muscles in his hips and core that he didn't even know he _had_. "_Mijo de puta_," he cursed in Spanish. In order to loosen up the muscles so that he could get up, James went through some basic stretches and stood again, albeit a little warily. As convincing as Clare's argument was the night before, it didn't pay to be trusting.

He lit a cigarette as he stumbled to the corner of the room to check his hard-earned prize. Unzipping the pack, he saw that the files looked undisturbed. But he needed to be sure. He pulled them out and double-checked them, seeing if anything was misplaced or gone; there wasn't. Umbridge's diary was just as well. James smirked and looked up at his snoozing bed companion. He'd always known she and her friends had been different than the other Slytherins, but she didn't do a lot to make him trust her, (nor did she do a lot to make him distrust her, in her defense.) James looked at her a little differently.

She had always been friendly. Hell, her friend Clare even hugged him from time to time. But the fact that she liked to play little games, just like any other Slytherin, had always made him question her trustworthiness. But after what she said last evening, and how she lived up to it the morning after… he knew. She was a good person, and wanted justice as badly as he. She was loyal to Tracey the same way he was loyal to Harry, and that made her perfect in his eyes. Grinning, he stood to get dressed.

A dresser had appeared as he was looking at Umbridge's files. James opened it to find a complete Hogwarts uniform for both him and Clare, complete with robes, button down white shirt, dress pants, boxers, socks, and even his favorite shoes, Chuck Taylor's. He quickly threw his clothes on and gathered up his garments from last night and folded them into a bag.

He put out the cigarette and walked to the window. Sunny skies had replaced the rain and fog of April, and James found the new weather refreshing and fitting. The turning of a new leaf was upon Hogwarts, and soon things could change for the better, even if things in the world were eventually going to hit the fan. Harry and his Army would have its justice. Umbridge would get her rightful desserts. And Dumbledore would return, making the castle safe and free and happy again.

"April showers bring May flowers, indeed," he whispered as he opened the window. He clambered out of it and shifted into his familiar red-tailed hawk. Gripping the top strap of the book bag, he soared out of the window.

…

James gathered wood that felt dry enough from around the Forbidden Forest and piled it in a clearing well away from eyesight of the castle. He tossed his clothes and leftover equipment from the previous night on top of them and lit the pyre with his wand. He changed back into a hawk and flew away, the backpack held once again in his talons. It was almost time for breakfast.

…

Daphne dreamt of James nibbling on her neck. But then he was pecking on it, as if she was made of glass…

She opend her eyes to see a hawk outside the window, a backpack in its claws. She quickly clambered out of the bed and opened the window, taking the bag and letting James jump onto her arm. As soon as he was in, he changed back.

"You left," she stated, a little hurt.

"I came back," he rectified with a grin. She couldn't help but smile back; his charisma was infectious.

"Where did you go?"

"To destroy some evidence."

A small sliver of ice crawled up her spine. "You got rid of Umbridge's files."

"I never told you that I had files on Umbridge, Daphne."

She blushed. "Well, after we were done last night-"

"I figured as much. I didn't destroy, them, no," James answered, causing her to sag in relief. "Thank you for not taking them. For not turning me in."

"You still don't trust me?"

"Not really, but you sure as hell put yourself down the road to _making_ me trust you."

That was something she could live with. "Do you trust me enough to have a quick round nine?"

"You mean you kept count?"

"I'm a girl and a Slytherin on top of that. We always keep count."

"I'll keep that in mind," James muttered as he pushed her to the bed. "You wanna show me some more new muscles, or should I lead this time?"

…

Kiara looked up at a pair of students walking into the Great Hall. They were linked arm-to-arm, and the girl, who Kiara immediately recognized as Daphne Greengrass, a Slytherin and her best friend's ex-girlfriend at that, kissed James, _their_ James Dean, on the cheek. She pushed him in the direction of the Ravenclaw table and meandered off. James strolled casually towards them, a slight limp in his easy-going gait.

Brian and Travis kept their surprise to a minimum. One cannot simply ask, "Dude, how did you get away last night!" when the authorities that be sat half a hall's length away. James sat next to Kiara and she couldn't but hold her nose.

"Ugh, ye smell like sex, sweat, and cigarettes!"

James wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Jealous?"

Brian and Travis dropped their forks with a clang and Kiara stared at James in shock. Did he, Mr. "I'm so depressed these days," actually crack a joke, just like the old James?

"What?"

"Dude, what happened last night?"

"Seriously, man," Travis keyed in. "We thought you were caught or something. When you disappeared off the Marauder's map-"

"Nope. I'm very much alive and very much free, and I am enjoying every last second if it," James declared as he rubbed his stomach. "Man, I'm so sore…"

Brian looked at Travis, who shrugged. They looked to Kiara, who could only do the same.

"Dude, how did you get away?" Brian asked. "Where were you last night?"

"Well, guys," James started, looking at them with a cocky grin. He looked over at Daphne, who smirked back. "Let's just say I got really, _really_ lucky."


End file.
